


Talk Me Down

by wonderslayer



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2019-10-14 21:32:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17516234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderslayer/pseuds/wonderslayer
Summary: S3E2. Buffy begins an exploration.





	1. Dead Man's Slumber Party

Maybe it was the comfort of being in her own bed again.

No, she had been home for three days now. God, was it really only three? It felt more like a week. Though maybe that was her muscles talking. Boy, was she out of shape. Three months without slaying would do that to you. And she had had to slay things two out of the three days already. She was definitely back in Sunnyhell.

So why was she sleeping so well? So dreamlessly? Maybe it was the muscle thing. No energy to move after the fight with zombies and Oval Mow Bunny - or, you know what, with Pat. Poor Pat. Poor Mom. No repressing for her anymore, she won a straight ticket to depressing. Probably wasn't sleeping so well as Buffy.

Except for now, when she was suddenly wide awake wondering why she was deep asleep a minute ago. Was it a bad sign when you woke up from  _ not _ having a nightmare? Or was it from the numbness in her arm?

She'd been laying flat on it so long - ugh, tingles. But her attempt to roll was met with stiff resistance by the arm slung over her waist.

Willow was fast asleep, unawares of her death grip. Probably dreaming of tadpoles or some such. Zombies, probably actually more likely at the moment, considering the events of this evening.

Buffy assumed that was why Willow was still there, anyway. Why she lingered long after they cleaned up the house; at least, as much as humanly and Slayerly possible. Long after everybody else left until Mom finally asked if Willow had called her parents yet, let them know where she was.

It felt like normal then, like when Willow finally hugged her. Just another sleepover, whether it was because they were having too much fun to part, or because Willow was scared and wanted the Slayer next to her. Better than sleeping with garlic, Buffy told her once. She wouldn't smell funny afterward. Willow's little giggle had been totally worth the bad joke.

Buffy slid her hand underneath Willow's, lifted very, very slowly, and -

Willow's arm came back down like a vice that made even Buffy gasp. And laugh a little. Will always had been stronger than she knew. The subtle approach wasn't going to work.

"Will," she whispered. "Willow."

A puff of breath hit the back of her neck, and a smile stretched Buffy's worn lips. She traced her fingers along the fine hairs of Willow's forearm, twirling circles until she felt a proper twinge and a shudder go through the redhead.

"Mm, hey...tickles." Willow's fingers gathered at Buffy's shirt.

"Will, let go, my arm's asleep."

"Why isn't the rest of you asleep?"

Again, a little laugh creaked out. "The rest of me will join in when I can feel my fingers again. Come on, just unclench a little so I can roll over."

"No."

What. Buffy craned her neck again, but Willow's eyes were shut tight.

"And why not?"

The answer was nothing more than a mumble, too faint for a dog to pick up. Buffy nudged her elbow back.

"What?"

"I said I don't want you to go."

Oh.

"Will, I'm not going anywhere. I'm just rolling over, I promise."

Buffy listened. There was nothing but the monotonous ticking of the clock on her nightstand. She was beginning to think Willow had fallen back asleep and she was either going to have dead arm tomorrow or have to really wake Will up tonight when the arm moved, just a fraction. Enough.

She wriggled her way around until she was facing Willow, finding herself with another unfamiliar smile. It was beginning to make her cheeks hurt, but. It was kind of a good hurt. Just like Willow's arm, clutching her again. Or her arm, waking up - ugh, prickles.

Maybe a reassurance would help her relax. Buffy brushed Willow's hair from her forehead.

"See? Still here."

"Good. When you were gone...it was bad."

"I'm sorry," she murmured, tangled her fingers up in red.

Willow opened her eyes, and Buffy dropped her hand to the pillow between them.

"Buffy?"

"I'm here."

"You're not still thinking about leaving again, are you?" Her fingers gripped at Buffy's shirt again.

"No," she breathed. "Willow - "

"But your suitcase is still packed."

Oh. Right.

In all the chaos, Buffy had forgotten about it. What had she even done with it?

"I'll unpack it in the morning. With all the zombies, I just..."

Willow sounded remarkably more chipper. "I'll help you! Unpack. An-and then maybe we can get pumped up at the Espresso Pump," she giggled, her adorable pun giggle, "so we can do the shopping together and get you all ready for school, and then maybe after we can go to the Bronze before patrol, or-or vice versa, and then, well, it’ll be Monday, I’ll-we’ll be in school, but you could come see us at lunch or something! We’re seniors now, after all, if we don’t eat off campus, it’d be like, like breaking one of those unspoken societal rules, like how you’re not supposed to sit in an empty seat next to somebody you don’t know, you know? Like nobody says anything, but you can just see it in their eyes… Oh, and then after school, we could - ”

Buffy was almost always on board with a good Willow ramble, but she was starting to get the picture. The very full, structured, scheduled picture. Was it progress? Going from total avoidance to -

She grimaced. “Be together, all the time, or at least have plans to be together in the near future, so that maybe I don’t have time to think about leaving again?”

Caught out, Willow wavered between gaping and pouting before settling decidedly on the latter. “Well - ” she puffed. “But you did. Leave, and almost left again, just tonight.”

“Hey.” Buffy held her hand up in the dark, until Willow reached up and gripped it back. “It was touch and go there for a while, I admit, but...I can take Xander’s snide remarks and my mom telling total strangers about my mental health issues. As long as I’ve got my Willow on my side.” She smiled, and spied Willow grinning back at her before it got swallowed down by another sobering whisper.

“Is it true she told you never to come back?”

Buffy could only nod.

“I’m sorry…” Willow was biting on her lip. “Why...why didn’t you come to me? Or Xander, or Giles? You know we would’ve - ”

“Will, it was just too much,” she breathed, gripping tighter. “I got fooled,  _ again _ , and you all got hurt because of it. Again. Xander’s arm, your head, Kendra…” Tears and bile were beginning to thicken Buffy’s throat. “And Giles, God,  _ Giles _ . First Ms. Calendar and then… And then I had to kill him, and it wasn’t his fault. It was mine. And after everything, I just felt like...you’d all be better off without me.”

“Oh, Buffy.”

She felt Willow moving closer, realizing only then that at some point she’d closed her eyes, unable to look into those earnest doe eyes in all her ugliness. How could Willow not see it? How was she not repulsed by it? Wrapping herself even tighter, until Buffy could feel every breath exchanged on her cheeks, stroking little circles on her back.

“It isn’t true.”

“Isn’t it?” Buffy managed to crack her eyes open, but she couldn’t stand to look for more than a second. “If it weren’t for me, you and Xander would be living normal teenager lives, worrying about homework, not the apocalypse. Angel and Kendra and Ms. Calendar would be alive and with Giles.”

“If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be worrying about anything, because we’d all be dead.” Willow sighed, softening. “Look, Buffy, nobody knew what would happen with you and Angel, not even Angel, and he was the one with the curse! You did the best that you could, you know?”

“I don’t know what’s scarier. Thinking it was my best, or that it wasn’t.”

Willow’s bottom lip puckered slightly. “I just wish you wouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

“Kind of a big redirection from earlier when you guys thought I wasn’t being hard enough.” Her brow wrinkled. “On myself.”

“That’s not what I wanted, I just. I didn’t want you to leave again...and I wanted you to see that it hurt me, and why it hurt me, because I love you, Buffy.”

Why was she smiling again? This was a very serious moment. Willow’s voice was raw with pain again, expressing how badly Buffy had hurt their relationship, had hurt Willow. Yet Buffy’s cheeks hurt with happiness.

Maybe because it was the first time those words had passed between them. Willow was smiling, too, now, trying not to.

“I love you, too.” She squeezed Willow’s fingers, burrowed her free hand in red hair, and grinned. “I promise, next time I decide to skip town, I will one hundred percent call first to see if you want to come with.”

“Buffy,” Willow whined, but she was rolling her eyes fondly.

“I kid. I promise.” She stared hard into those big eyes. “I will never leave you again.”

It was Willow’s turn to smile like an idiot. “Well. It’s okay if you have to go to the bathroom sometimes, or…”

Buffy grinned. Ouch.

“I just want you to know that, I know I was upset and being all avoidy, but even so, we can always work it out,” she continued, more genuinely now. “An-and you can always come to me, even if my head is squished. I just don’t want to be without you.” Even in the dark, Buffy could see a layer of red coat Willow’s cheeks. “I mean, when you were gone, i-it was like, having a missing arm or something. Like I would still have this instinct to call you or talk to you and then, I had to realize you were gone over and over.”

“I’m so sorry, Will.” She bit at her bottom lip. “If it helps, I felt the same way. I know it’s different, because I could’ve called - and, again, I’m really sorry that I didn’t, but it... _ felt _ like I couldn’t.”

A silence fell between them, and the warmth leftover from hearing love - who knew it could feel just as good from a friend, a best friend? - seeped from Buffy with each passing second. Had she said the wrong thing, again? Willow didn’t look angry, just sort of sad and thoughtful, but Willow brains were far more advanced than Buffy brains, and who knew what kind of sad and thoughtful thoughts were happening in there? Thoughts about Buffy not calling, like an idiot, leaving Willow and everyone else to imagine the worst, knowing they were probably imagining the worst and still not calling because she felt like she couldn’t? Thoughts about what a lame excuse that was and how -

“Buffy?”

“Mm? Yeah?”

“What made you decide to come back?”

Buffy was wordless. No one had bothered to ask that particular question yet, and Buffy hadn’t bothered to come up with an answer to that question yet. It was Lily’s fault - well, Anne’s, sort of, wasn’t it?

“Well, I ran into an old friend…”

By the time she finished the whole story, her other arm was falling asleep and Willow was gaping at her.

“Wow.”

“Yeah. I called her this morning, she seems to be doing okay so far.”

“No - I mean, that’s great, but Buffy. Why didn’t you tell us?”

She shrugged. “Didn’t seem that important. Like, our average week in Sunnydale includes at least one demon on a power trip bad mouthing humans.”

“But you almost - ”

“And me almost dying. Or sometimes actually dying.”

Willow chewed on her lip. “So is that what made you come back?”

“Almost dying? Sort of. I guess the whole thing made me realize the same lesson I keep learning over and over again - that I’m the Slayer and I can’t escape that, even if I go back to LA or change my name or stop looking for evil to fight. But it was also just, realizing that I needed to deal. Closing my eyes and running away wasn’t going to make it go away, it was with me, all the time.”

“Oh.”

Willow looked upset again. What had she done wrong now?

“Hey.” Buffy squeezed her fingers until she had Willow’s eyes again. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, it’s stupid.” She shook her head.

“Come on, we were doing great with the honesty thing here, don’t spoil it now. Tell me.”

She was going to chew that lip right off. “I just, guess I was hoping you...missed us. Me.”

“I did. So much, Will. Look, I came back for a lot of reasons, but one of them is that if I have to be the Slayer and I have to deal with all this stuff, then I’d rather do it with the people I love. With my best friend.”

Willow smiled her almost giddy smile. “With me?”

“No, with Cordelia,” she deadpanned.

“Don’t joke about that, it was almost true.”

Buffy’s smirk dropped. “Not even. I picked you, remember?”

Willow looked almost as awestruck as the day they met, though now there was a smile hovering around her mouth, a glow in her eyes replacing the anxious, darting glances Buffy found so endearing in the shy, unassuming redhead. The girl before her now was still shy and a little unassuming, but there was confidence now, too, purpose. A little of Buffy rubbing off on her, or the result of becoming an occult expert - a magic dabbler, even - fighting the forces of darkness alongside the Slayer? Or the true Willow peeking out from behind years of bullying, being ignored?

Who knew? Those questions and their answers were for big brained people like Willow or Giles. Buffy wasn’t a thinker, she was a feeler. And the way Willow was looking at her made her feel warm and happy, and Buffy leaned into the little space that remained between them and kissed her chastley.

Willow was owl-eyed after the brief contact. “What was that for?”

Buffy supposed she was too nice to say ‘what the hell are you doing,’ though it was a valid question. What the hell  _ was _ she doing? She just kissed a girl. She just kissed her best friend. She just kissed Willow.

“I don’t know.” She hoped her tone was actually as cool as it sounded in her head. “It felt like a hug moment, but…” She glanced down at Willow’s arm, still secure at her waist, but those big eyes didn’t follow. Buffy’s stomach started to dance. “Was it...is that okay?”

Tick tock, Willow. Her stomach could only handle so much. Any moment now, she was going to start spewing word salad. Of course she didn’t mean it  _ that way _ , it’s just that they were already hugging, so she couldn’t rehug her, and besides, lots of girl friends kissed, okay, so usually it was a kiss on the cheek, but a quick peck on the lips was normal, too, and anyway -

“Yeah.”

What. Buffy blinked, focusing her eyes in on Willow’s little smile.

“It felt nice,” she said.

Oh.

“Cool.” Buffy smiled. “We should really sleep. I don’t think Mom’s threat to start throwing out pancakes if we’re not up by ten was an idle one.”

Willow nodded happily. “Okay. Good night, Buffy.”

“Night, Will.”

When she finally fell asleep again, her dreams were back, and they were filled with red.


	2. Faith, Hope & Will

Thank God everything was back to a kind of normal. She never thought she’d be so grateful to see a stack of homework, or to sit through one of Giles’ lectures on preparation, or even to hear Cordelia make some questionable comment about her hair or outfit. Or get asked out on a date. And it was nice. The date, anyway.

Scott truly was the definition of charm. And gentlemanly, to boot. He bought her popcorn, offered his coat when the night air settled with an unusual chill, and walked her home after Steamboat Bill, Jr. got over and she tried to hide a yawn into her palm.

Of course, she didn’t stay put after he walked her home, but the gesture was appreciated nonetheless.

They even had another date planned, with more traditional Sunnydale fare - the Bronze. Which would be great. Her dates with Angel were always -

Well, in a cemetery or a sewer and usually something died. So it would be a nice change of pace to be with living people at the Bronze with a boy her own age. Right?

Sure, after her date with living people at a movie festival with a boy her own age, she immediately went out alone to a cemetery to find dead things to kill, but that was only because everything was back to a kind of normal. Patrol was normal. So were the nightmares she was avoiding.

The night with none had been some sort of fluke. Angel had returned in technicolor and surround sound the very next evening, screaming at her -

_ GO TO HELL _

...

Not that she could blame him. First she took his soul, then his life, and not even six months after - 

She was on a date. He had every right to scream.

Some part of her, not yet beaten, had hope that tonight would be different. She’d cleansed, right? She admitted what happened. She looked into the eyes of the man she loved and killed him for the sake of the world. Deal and move on, that was the lesson, wasn’t it?

And now she was trying to learn from Faith, great.

Not that Faith was so bad, after all. They'd even had a little fun after killing Kakistos. Trading stories, stuffing their mouths with the finest food available at Happy Burger. Good thing she’d had the sense to order an extra box of fries “for the table.” And without the gang along, she even managed to get a word in edgewise, enough to tell Faith about burning down the gym at Hemery - and about Merrick, her first Watcher.

Of course, Faith’s response: “Funny, I don’t remember signing up for group therapy.”

“I know, not my finest segue,” Buffy had agreed, taking a wet wipe to the grime beneath her fingernails. “And maybe it’s corny, but I thought you should know you’re not alone here.”

“Thanks. Hey, maybe after this we can braid each other’s hair and decorate our stakes with rainbow stickers.”

“Make fun all you want, but being the Slayer is, well, lonely sometimes. Kind of comes with the oneness territory. There’s all kinds of experiences we have that no one else can understand. And the one person who can come close to getting it usually ends up dead as a tragic side effect of being a regular person who hangs around evil things all the time.”

“You’re kind of surrounded by those.”

“Evil things?”

Faith waved a fry at her. “Regular people. You’ve got, like, a whole fan club and not a single power among ‘em, except for the werewolf, and that’s only three nights a month.”

“And not exactly helpful to the slaying.”

“Right. So?”

“So - what?”

“What gives?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged, but Faith was unswayed. “Look, I’ve told them all how dangerous it is - they all  _ know _ how dangerous it is, but they stick around anyway, I don’t know why. I mean, Giles doesn’t really have a choice, it’s his job, and Cordelia just keeps getting mixed up in it regardless of whether she wants to or not, and Oz is just there for, you know - ”

“Willow.”

“Right.” Buffy resumed sipping at her milkshake.

“And what about good ol’ Willow and Xander?”

She shrugged. “They’re my best friends.”

“So they stick around getting attacked by snakes and vamps and your ex and graves that appear in the middle of a stairwell and God knows what else - for you?” Faith scoffed and grabbed another handful of fries. “What’s better than best?”

Buffy squirmed. She hadn’t thought about it quite like that before. Well, she  _ had _ . She just hadn’t heard anyone else say it like that. But every time one of them got hurt, if only for a moment, she wondered.  _ Why do they do this for me? _

Then she remembered. It’s Giles’ job. Xander hates vampires. Willow -

“Well, no. It’s not for me, it’s like, the greater good. They even patrolled for - in my place this summer.”

Faith stopped chewing. “And you were where?”

_ GO TO HELL _

She didn’t want the milkshake anymore. Fortunately, Faith wasn’t one to waste food. She was already slurping when Buffy found an answer.

“In LA, not dealing.”

For once, Faith didn’t have a remark. She understood too well, Buffy supposed. Either that or she was enjoying the milkshake too much to bother. Either way, she didn’t pursue the topic any further, preferring instead to ask about the stories behind the snakes and the stairwell grave, and Buffy was grateful for it.

She was ready to not talk about Angel anymore. Well, in a new way than the way she had not been talking about Angel before. Hence the cleansing, telling the truth about what really happened, and then going on a date with Scott Hope.

And then going out to slay things until she was too tired to dream, or at least until there wasn’t much of a gap left between sleeping and morning, because what if fessing up wasn’t good enough? What if the nightmares kept coming, and how could she move on if every night a very special episode of The Angel Show was running through her head?

This was getting her nowhere - the slaying, that is. The one vampire out and about tonight hadn’t put up much of a fight, and all the silence was only leaving her room for more quiet contemplation. Besides, Faith was right about one thing. She was starving now.

She grabbed a granola bar on her way through the kitchen and then crept up the stairs to shower the dust off and dig into her secret stash of crackers - but skidded to a halt. She hadn’t left the light in her bedroom on. Had she?

Gripping the stake in her pocket, she padded to the door and listened. Nothing, not even a rustle.

She was being paranoid. Mom probably turned it on for her, knowing she’d be coming back to a dark house. But then, the Hellmouth.

Buffy clasped the doorknob, drew her stake, and -

“Willow?”

Willow jumped up, clutching Mr. Gordo so tightly his eyes bulged, and Buffy froze.

Willow was in her bedroom. This was not an unusual occurrence, and yet - it was the first time since the last time, and last time, Buffy kissed her.

She had worked pretty hard all week to ignore that fact, and she’d done a good job of it, she thought. When Xander left them to go get a soda, for instance, Buffy joined him even though she wasn’t thirsty. And when she came back from retrieving drinks to find Oz and Willow occupied with each other’s mouths, she smiled and focused on her amazing academic achievement that Willow would be so proud of, too. And when Nightmare Angel mocked her for kissing her best friend in her bed only months after she stabbed him in the gut and sent him to hell, she woke up.

Okay, so that last one was out of her control, but still.

The one moment of pause had come when those words left Willow’s mouth: “But I think you're ready now, or at least in the state of pre-readiness to make conversation, or-or to do that thing with your mouth that boys like.”

But it was nothing. And only a little pause, because, after all, Willow was excited about the prospect of Buffy dating Scott. Which was normal and good. Willow had been wanting Buffy to start dating again since before she killed Angel. It was normal.

But why normal? It was good, Buffy knew. She didn’t  _ want _ Willow to freak. After all, it was only a little kiss, she hadn’t meant anything by it. It was friendly. And Willow took it that way, and that was good. Right?

Then why was she avoiding being alone with her, again?

Her brain felt like a pretzel. God, she was hungry.

“Buffy? Are you okay?”

Willow was waiting.

“Buffy, could you maybe put the stake down now?”

She was still gripping it in the air, ready for the strike, she realized. Whoops.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Buffy nudged the door shut, shrugging her coat off. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” A light bulb went off. “Monsters?”

“Oh, no!” Willow waved Mr. Gordo in the air. “No monsters, and everything’s fine. Um, your mom said that I could wait for you.”

“Okay…” Buffy raised her eyebrows, but nothing else seemed forthcoming. “So...what’s up?”

Willow utterly deflated. “You  _ are _ mad at me.”

She plopped back to the mattress.

“What? No! What?” Before she could think twice, Buffy was at Willow’s side, scooping up her hand. “What would make you think that?”

“Well, we’ve barely had a second alone together at all since you’ve been back at school and, okay, I know I started it when you got back and I wasn’t very supportive, but I thought we kind of worked through all that, and I really do want to have best friend time with you, and I know you’ve been busy with all the makeup exams and with Faith and - oh, it-it’s the Faith thing, isn’t it? We’ve been neglecting you, and I’m sorry, it’s just it’s been so much fun getting to talk to someone about the slaying, the rest of the time we have to be so secretive and - ”

“Willow.” Buffy squeezed her fingers, fighting off a smile. “I’m not mad about Faith.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced. “You’re not?”

“Well. I admit I was starting to feel a little like invisible girl for a while there, but no, I’m not mad.”

“But, how could you not be?” Willow’s lip quivered, but before Buffy could get past a breath, she was scurrying on to another jumble of words: “W-we’ve been lousy friends to you all week; I mean, first with Faith and then, with Scott, I pushed and I shouldn’t have, you’re not ready - or-or, see? There I go again, assuming I know your status of readiness and you haven’t told me and I haven’t even asked and what kind of friend doesn’t ask? And - ”

“Will, slow down, you’re hitting warp speed here.” She sucked in a breath of her own. “Scott and I went out tonight.”

Willow stared, owl-eyed all over again. “You did?”

She dipped her chin in affirmation, and rushed on. “He asked me to this Buster Keaton film festival and I, well, first I hyperventilated, but then I apologized and I took him up on it. And we had a nice time. And we’re going to the Bronze together later this week sometime. So, don’t feel bad, okay? I didn’t even know myself whether I was ready or not, and maybe readiness is something you have to act on and not wait for. Like, maybe you pushed, but maybe I needed to be pushed, you know?”

Poor Mr. Gordo. Willow was wringing him out again, not making eye contact.

“But Buffy...how can you not  _ hate _ me?”

She felt her jaw drop. “ _ What _ ? Willow, what are you - ”

“Angel.”

Oh. Her stomach followed her jaw to the floor.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” she whispered, tears weighing her voice. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I, um…”

It hurt just thinking about it, that was the simplest answer. It still did, just...less, somehow. And because it hurt less, it also hurt more. How could she stop - how dare she stop hurting when - 

_ GO TO HELL _

She grimaced.

“I wasn’t ready?”

“But Giles pushed you,” she muttered, a little spitefully, and Buffy’s eyebrows raised. “I mean, w-with the binding spell.”

“It’s not his fault, it’s his job. Besides, it wasn’t him. It was me.”

Willow peered at her quizzically, and Buffy drew another long breath.

“Seeing everything that Faith went through...running away, hiding, it didn’t help her. Or me. You’ve gotta deal and move on, ready or not.”

“Readiness is something you have to act on,” she echoed softly.

She felt a tug at the corner of her mouth. “Right. So, I started with telling the two people I trust most what happened, the thing that was killing me the most. And then I tried a date. So far, it’s...it’s going okay.”

Buffy drew up a brave smile, but Willow’s frown remained firmly in place.

“I don’t get how you can still say that when I’m the reason you had to kill Angel.”

“Will, Angel - no.  _ I _ am the reason I had to - ”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean Angel.”

Not Angelus, she meant. She had to look into Angel’s loving, trusting face and -

Buffy shook her head. “You couldn’t have known.”

“Buffy, I’m so sorry.”

Mr. Gordo’s head was wet. Buffy tucked herself against Willow’s shoulder and squeezed her waist cautiously, careful not to pull too tight. She smelled like lavender. And sulfur. Spell stuff. She could ask about it later.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she said instead, relishing in the warmth of Willow as she rested her head against Buffy’s. “You were trying to help me. And you did. In a way, I...I’m glad I got to see him one more time.”

“It must’ve been awful,” she murmured, twisting in Buffy’s loose grasp until she could return it properly, and Buffy found herself buried even deeper in an orange sweater and sulfurry lavender. “I mean, having to - not-not seeing him...like he was.”

“I keep dreaming about it,” she admitted, muffled in cotton.

“Oh, Buffy.”

Willow gripped her tighter, rubbing her back up and down, and it felt so nice to be held and warm again. Like the last time Willow was here. Was that why Buffy kissed her? Because of this, here? This absolute comfort. Because Buffy wanted to kiss her again.

It was wrong. One time was enough. It was one time too many. Even if it was friendly. Those lips belonged to Oz, who she liked, who she respected. Who Willow loved, clearly, friendly kiss notwithstanding.

Was it friendly? She hadn’t wanted to kiss Scott all night, but she wanted to kiss Willow, her best friend, a girl, now.

But it was only a first date. Kisses would come in time.

Kisses had already come with Willow. One kiss. One friendly kiss.

That made Nightmare Angel scream at her. And that she was thinking about now, even in the depth of her guilt and pain, because it had been  _ less than six months and she kissed Willow _ .

Because she hadn’t been thinking. She’d looked at Willow looking at her with such adoration and admiration and she felt happy for the first time in months and kissed her without thought. Just like she’d looked at Angel so close to her, with such love and desire in his eyes, and she’d come so close to losing him forever, and kissed him and welcomed him into her heart and her body without thought.

She should pull away. She should tell Willow she was tired. But it wasn’t Willow’s fault, and Buffy didn’t want her to go.

The pretzel that was Buffy’s brain was quickly becoming a web.

“Will, will you stay here with me tonight?”

Bad Buffy. She didn’t feel terribly sorry when Willow smiled against her hair.

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

Despite the implied agreement that they should get to bed, they sat there together for moments, eons more until Buffy itched her nose and saw black still under her fingernails from earlier. Willow freed her to the shower, promising not to wait, but she was still awake when Buffy slid back under the covers beside her and flicked off the light.

Buffy knew this primarily because Willow’s arm came around her waist as soon as she settled in, and then because Willow kissed her quickly.

Oh.

And then she burrowed against her shoulder and said cheerfully, “Good night, Buffy.”

Well.

Willow wanted a kiss, too.

_ Willow wanted a kiss, too. _

Buffy felt herself smiling.

“Night, Will.”

And she dreamt of red lips.


	3. Beauty and the Beast Within

“Giles, do you think Slayers are just mindless animals?”

He nearly dropped the first aid kit.

Whether it was the suddenness of her talking or the question itself - and Buffy admitted it was a surprising question - she thought it was a bit of an overreaction. Still, he couldn’t entirely be blamed. Since when did Buffy care what a Slayer was? As far as Giles knew, she had no interest in the heritage, the sacred duty, the history behind the power coursing through her veins. In fact, every time he tried to discuss it with her, she feigned boredom. So he couldn’t entirely be blamed for the slight delay in treating her arm.

But in truth, the thoughts had been creeping up on her for some time. Maybe since Kendra showed up, claiming to be  _ The _ Slayer, and saying other things. Like, newsflash, there’s a Slayer handbook, and having a normal life with friends and family and a personality isn’t a thing for most Slayers, and there are cultures out there where the calling is taken so seriously baby girls are taken away from their parents to be raised by a British guy.

Not that that would be so bad. Giles would make a good dad. Better than Buffy’s actual bio dad at this point. Off topic.

Buffy never gave much thought to the other Slayers before Kendra. Then all sorts of things occurred. First - with another Slayer around, maybe she could have a normal life. Sometimes, anyway. She could help on the big stuff, like the apocalypses. Or maybe they could trade, six months to Kendra, six months to Buffy. Or every other month. Like divorced parents.

No, she wouldn’t want to spend too much time not slaying. She’d get rusty. And what would Giles do? Would he take over as Kendra’s Watcher for Kendra’s week and come back to Buffy for her week? Or would he and Mr. Zabuto trade off, too? That would be better. Giles was  _ her _ Watcher.

What would he do if he weren’t? And what would she do if she weren’t the Slayer?

They’d get some rest, that’s what. But, before being a Watcher, Giles was Bad Magic Hates The World Ticking Time Bomb Guy. And before being the Slayer, Buffy was Vapid Barbie Clone.

Having destinies made them better people. Having destinies made them miserable people.

Nothing normal in the cards, always suffering. But Kendra didn’t seem to mind, and neither did Faith. No, while Kendra was all seriousness and duty, Faith relished in it, but maybe the message was the same.

Slaying isn’t a job. It’s who you are.

Then who is the Slayer? A duty-bound protector of the innocent, like Kendra? Or, like Faith, an animal, created and designed to revel in the hunt, the kill, the basest desires.

It would make sense. The Slayer needed to want to kill evil, but to thrive on the kill, like the very things Buffy set out to destroy every night…

“Buffy, are you feeling well?”

Giles finally sat himself across from her again, pulling gauze and antiseptic from the case. Buffy looked to her arm and the blood-soaked rag protecting his desk.

“Right, of-of course,” he rushed out. “What I meant to say is that you’ve...never shown any interest in-in learning about this sort of thing before.”

So why now, Giles? Fair enough.

Buffy set her teeth as he dabbed mercurochrome over the jagged slices, already healing. “Well, something, um, happened tonight that…raised some questions.”

“Buffy, if you’re feeling guilty over Pete, I assure you - ”

“No, it’s not that.”

She hadn’t had a choice, about Pete. He was crushing her windpipe with the full strength of his arm, the full weight of his body. Her right arm was useless after he cut into it, and the lights were beginning to fade. She grasped for something, anything - a screwdriver! - and plunged it into his chest. There was no time for guilt about the human that once was.

If she felt any, it was for Debbie and Mr. Platt. Jeff Orkin, too. She’d been too late to the monster for them. But she was always too late for somebody.

“BUFFY!”

Willow.

Faith must be having trouble catching Oz.

Buffy pushed the body off and flipped to her feet. She just needed something to stop the bleeding and  then -

“BUFFY?”

“I’m coming, Will!”

She grabbed an oil rag off the rack and wound it around her arm, ready to tie and run, but she hadn’t made it two steps before Willow burst in, red and frantic. Her eyes darted over the state of the room - Pete and Debbie lying there dead, Buffy standing but dripping on the floor - and her knees buckled.

Buffy caught her up before she met the floor, steadied her with an arm secure at her waist. Willow gripped her shoulders, biting nail marks into her leather jacket, and pressed her forehead to Buffy’s with such urgency that for anyone but the Slayer, it might’ve hurt. Even so, Buffy felt every wave of Willow’s tremors.

And yet all she could think of were red lips. Willow lips.

A Willow kiss a day kept the nightmares at bay. At least, that’s what Buffy was beginning to suspect. Reaching for a peck had become something of a habit over the last week or so, and while Buffy was doing her very best not to think about it, she couldn’t help but notice a pattern.

The night she walked Willow home after patrol and they shared a parting smooch, Angel was entirely absent from her dreams. Same for the night after they went to the mall together and Buffy’s mom picked her up and Willow gleamed at her, and Buffy kissed her cheek before scrambling into the car.

But the day she turned and pressed her hand to Willow’s arm and then realized Oz and Scott and Debbie and Pete were  _ all standing right there _ \- and she smiled and said, “See you guys later.” That night, Angel mocked her for her cowardice - for the many betrayals she committed every time she erased thought and exchanged a kiss with Willow.

Was that why she was dying to have a taste of her right now? Because she knew without it she’d drown in Angel’s ashes tonight? Or because all week she’d been aching as Willow fretted over Oz, and now she had Willow’s fretting to herself?

“Oh, God, Buffy,” Willow whimpered, her attention lost to Buffy’s injured arm.

“I’m okay,” she heard herself say.

_ Kiss her. Taste her. _

“I was so afraid…”

Before Buffy could find more words other than those thrumming through her head, Willow was doing it for her, tilting her face up for a touch as gentle and reassuring and brief as any that had come before it. But this time as sweet lips withdrew, she didn’t let go.

Buffy eclipsed the space between them. The sudden strength behind her grasp made Willow gasp, and a fresh shudder went through her. But she wasn’t pulling back from Buffy’s crushing embrace.

Her fingers curled up into blonde hair, and she gave herself up to the mercy of Buffy’s strength, her legs almost seeming to fall out from beneath her all over again. She was so light, just like the smell of lavender tickling Buffy’s nose. Soft, like the cotton sweater she clasped against Willow’s back.  _ Warm _ .

Like her tongue, inviting -

And then it was gone.

“No! No, I can’t, I-I’m sorry, I just - Oz! I’m with Oz, and I can’t - ”

Willow’s arms were flailing more than usual.

And  _ there _ was the guilt. Oz, and Scott, and what the hell was she thinking? She wasn’t, again. If she was going to kiss anyone like that, it should be Scott, her sort of boyfriend, not Willow, her female best friend. Yet here she was again, and this time she’d crossed one too many lines.

She could see it in Willow’s face, the utter horror at what she’d done. God, what was  _ wrong _ with her?

“No, Willow. I’m sorry.”

Buffy cleared her throat of the strange husk that had overtaken it, distantly noting that Willow had stopped her pacing. Good. And she was staring at Buffy. Not good.

She needed to give Willow an explanation she didn’t have. When it was just a peck in place of a hug, it was stupid and weird but excusable to both of them. This, smashing through boundaries, taking more of the comfort Willow so generously offered - God, she wanted  _ more _ . Willow’s strawberry gloss was sticky and sweet on her lips, the warmth of her still fresh to Buffy’s skin, and even now, hanging on the precipice of Buffy’s silence, wringing her sleeves into knots, Willow was -  _ beautiful. _

No. Yes, Willow was very pretty, prettier than she realized, but not Buffy’s type. Scott was Buffy’s type. Cute and compact and charming and male.

Willow was still waiting for a reason. Any reason. What did Faith say about slaying?

“It’s, the adrenaline, you know, after a hunt - a fight, I get a little wired. That’s all. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Faith wasn’t wrong. After a fight, especially a successful one, Buffy felt wide awake, alert, alive. Every hair on her body standing on end. And maybe, just maybe, it was a little bit - exciting. It was just that Buffy didn’t feel it so intensely. Or when she did, it was with Angel, and then she just assumed - it was Angel, making her feel so…

Animal.

But it made total sense, didn’t it? The first time she kissed Willow, it was hours after fighting a horde of zombies. Then it became just another thing that they did, a strange but comforting piece of their friendship, but it didn’t mean anything. And it didn’t change until now, when Willow came in and touched her and petted her and kissed her right after a fight for her life.

So it wasn’t her. It was the Slayer.

Buffy breathed at last.

“Oh.” Willow twisted knots around her thumbs. “O-okay.”

The oil rag lay crumpled by Buffy’s boot, dotted with blood. The wounds were already beginning to heal, but the sting of it was reentering her awareness.

“Let’s get back to the library before somebody comes in here. I want to make sure Giles is okay and Oz is out for the night so we have time to fix the cage.”

“O-okay.”

The trip back was made in total silence. Thank God for Faith’s mouth. She was motoring it the moment Buffy stepped back through the swinging doors, Willow trailing behind. The two of them were occupied with making Oz comfortable for the rest of his tranquilizer-induced nap while Giles and Buffy were sequestered away in his office. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to be suffering any ill effects from the dart, other than a yawn here or there, though Faith had practically stuffed smelling salts up his nose to jumpstart him. He sniffled now and then.

“Buffy?” He had finished wrapping her arm up, and now sat patiently waiting for her to come back to earth. Back from Willow’s lips.

She shook herself. “Nothing, never mind.”

Giles peered at her over the rims of his glasses.

“Okay, enough with the third degree, I just…” Buffy puffed. “I’ve been experiencing...cravings, after I fight.”

“Cravings?” His eyebrows raised.

“Food, mostly. After patrol, it’s straight to the fridge, and the other night, I ate half a cheese pizza by myself.” She pouted, and a smile wrinkled his eyes.

“Considering the amount of-of energy that you expend, the, uh, adrenaline, I don’t think that it’s particularly unnatural for you to ‘crave’ some sustenance afterward, but if it’s something that truly concerns you, of course we can monitor your diet in addition to our regular training.” He reached for his cuppa, gesturing her on. “Now, what happened tonight that caused you to worry about being, uh…?”

He wasn’t going to let this go. It wasn’t about food, and they both knew it, and he wasn’t going to let it go. Yet still she hesitated.

It wasn’t for lack of trust. He might scold her, but he wouldn’t tell a soul. He wouldn’t even tell Willow that she told him. But how was she supposed to talk to him about her lusty feelings? Let alone about her sudden lusty feelings for her best friend, who also happened to be a girl. Even if it was only because Slayers were like animals.

Why couldn’t he just say yes or no to these things?

“I kissed Willow.”

He nearly choked on his tea this time. But to his credit, once he recovered and swallowed, he only tilted his head and managed, with minimal stuttering, “I, uh, thought you were dating that young chap, uhh - ”

“Scott. I am.” Buffy sank back with a sigh. “We’ve only been on a few dates, but I like him. He’s nice, normal. And yet Willow walks in after I kill Pete and it’s suddenly ‘Scott who?’ Giles, I practically mauled her.”

Giles was vigorously cleaning his glasses. “I-I take it this is the, the first time something like this has happened?”

God. “No.” She wished she had glasses to vigorously clean. She settled for fiddling with his letter opener. “We’ve...kissed a few times now, but, never like this.”

“I-I-I  _ meant _ the, uh, the first time you’ve, um…”

“Oh.” Her cheeks were going to erupt with lava by the end of this conversation. “Well...I mean, I always feel a little…charged? After I slay, but the only time I’ve acted on it before was with...with Angel.”

“I see.”

His lips pursed, the way they did when he was puzzling something out, but Buffy could only squirm so long.

“So, I’m thinking, it’s either the Slayer thing or, magic. I mean, I haven’t felt the urge to corner her in nothing but a raincoat or anything, but it could be like a-a mild dose of love spell, couldn’t it? Like a like spell, or-or some kind of kissing spell?”

Of course, he didn’t dignify that with a response, either, but Buffy was growing desperate.

“Giles, speak? Come on, you always know why this stuff is happening, you’re like, my explainer guy. So? Explain. Please?”

Giles settled his glasses back on the bridge of his nose and looked at her at last. “Explain. Well, what seems to have happened is that you’ve established a loving, devoted relationship. You care for and about one another, you-you confide in one another, and you protect one another. And now you’ve developed what is commonly known as ‘feelings,’ which I suspect you know but deny out of some sense of guilt or perhaps trauma.”

He stared back unwavering under the force of her glare.

“This isn’t funny, Giles,” she bit out, slamming his letter opener back on the desk.

“I don’t recall laughing.”

Buffy jerked from her chair. If he wasn’t going to be helpful -

“How does Willow feel about all this?”

She glowered, folding her arms. “She’s freaked. Which is why it would be really nice if I could give her a reason for all this right now.”

“And I hate to say it, but. I believe you’re looking for supernatural reason where there is only...well, natural. A-a spell is unlikely. The effects of love spells and the like are usually quite devastating, correctly performed or not, as you yourself witnessed. And as to your theory about the Slayer, while the source of the power is ancient and therefore, in many ways, primal...th-the, it-it’s not a separate entity from the girl who wields it. You are the Slayer as-as much as the Slayer is you. If you need proof, look no further than Faith. The two of you are...your fighting style, your temperament…”

“Then why does she feel it, too?” Off his questioning glance, Buffy puffed. “The, uh, rush? After slaying. And the hunger.”

Giles was back to cleaning his glasses, thinking. “Well, the latter is more than likely a widespread phenomenon among Slayers… Did Kendra experience - ”

“Don’t know. Never got a chance to ask.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not sure I ever would have. Faith just kind of told...well, everybody.”

“It’s not surprising.”

“Tell me about it. She’s not so much with the privacy. I know more about Faith’s urges than - well, let’s just say, if it was a category on Jeopardy? I’d clean ‘em out.”

He wiped away a smile. “I, uh, meant that your...urges are not surprising.”

Buffy gaped at him.

“Buffy, you face grave danger almost every day of your life. To come so close to death so often, it-it’s not surprising that you...crave something that reminds you that you are alive.”

Oh. Well, if you wanted to make  _ sense _ …

Buffy wrung her hands out, returning reluctantly to her seat across from him. “So...I just needed to feel alive. Really, really badly. Like, no will-power badly.”

She nodded to herself. That made sense. It wasn’t exactly good news; she’d have to stay away from Willow after patrol from now on.

Giles took a breath, but seemed to think better of whatever he was about to say and reached for his tea instead.

Good. It was settled. As of tonight, no more Willow kisses for Buffy.


	4. Homecoming Dance

Another glorious week on the Hellmouth gone by. Why did she even bother to buy new clothes at this point? Inevitably, they wound up covered in blood or dirt or goo of indeterminate origin. Just like her hair, and under her fingernails, and once up her nose.

At least she was handling it better than Cordelia.

“God, how can you  _ stand _ it, Buffy? Oh, it  _ smells _ ! Ugh!”

“Cordy, wait!” Xander’s shoes scuffed pavement as he sprinted up, panting. Took him long enough. “Wait. I know you’re upset, but...hey, winning isn’t everything, right?” He chuckled nervously.

Oh, Xander.

Cordelia made a noise Buffy could only describe as a pterodactyl scream and then she was off again, but Xander was quick to cut around them.

“Forget that, scratch it. The point is, we all came to have a good time. And I know our Get Buffy and Cordy Back to the Usual Civility With a Side of Snide Remarks plan didn’t exactly pan out - ”

“Exactly? You think?” Buffy stood corrected.  _ That _ was a pterodactyl scream. “Xander, look at my dress. Look at my  _ hair _ . And do you have any idea how much this eyeliner cost? Not to mention, I. Nearly. Died!” Cordelia stabbed him in the chest with an angry finger, wilting him down to a grinning mess.

Was it just Buffy, or did he seem extra anxious tonight? Wiping his palms on his tux, bouncing on the balls of his feet...

“But you still look beautiful,” he tried, smiling more genuinely when she didn’t stab him again. “Look, just come back inside. We’ll clean you up, get you a drink, and have a nice, romantic evening together in which you can yell at me all you want.” He took her hand in both of his, giving her his most winning look. “Come on. I got all dressed up and everything.”

Well, that was that. So much for standing together in righteous fury. Cordelia bit her lip.

“Well...you do look pretty good. Fine. But one dance only, and then I’m going home to take a hundred showers, okay?”

“Deal.” He grinned and, at last, acknowledged Buffy. “You coming, Buff?”

She shook her head. “You guys go ahead. I’m going to get a head start on  _ my _ hundred showers.”

“Come on, Buffy,” Cordelia said, even smiling. “If I can brave the entire school looking like this after that spectacularly humiliating loss, then you certainly can. Besides, you should be used to it by now.” She quirked a playful brow.

Cordelia had a point. After everything she’d been through, her classmates should be the least of her fears. And she really should be used to it. But even as a smile crept up, Buffy shook her head staunchly.

There was no way she was going back in there. It was a mistake to try going in the first place, and tonight was just further proof. But they weren’t going to let go that easily.

“Don’t listen to her, you look - you both look great,” Xander said, ushering her off a few steps to whisper, “Plus if you leave, it’ll just be me and Cordy and Willow and Oz.”

Buffy’s brow crinkled. “Xander, it’s been the four of you many times before, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“No, I won’t.” He glanced furtively to Cordelia, busy picking at her hair, but lowered his voice even more. “Look, I did something bad.”

Okay, now she knew he seemed more anxious than usual. She could see the sweat glistening on his forehead. He swiped at it futilely.

“What bad thing did you do?”

Xander squirmed. “That’s not really the important takeaway here. The important thing is, I think Willow’s mad at me, and that’s on top of the pretty spectacular mope she’s got going on lately, and I don’t know if she told him or if Oz can just sense it because of some leftover werewolf pheromones or whatever, but I swear he’s been giving me the cold shoulder all night.”

“What did you do to Willow?” she heard herself growl.

His eyes bugged. “Nothing and for the love of God,  _ shh _ !”

He tugged her even further from Cordelia, peering back at her quickly. She was tapping her foot now.

“Look, forget me and Willow for a minute,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “Something’s going on with you. You’ve been on edge all week, and don’t tell me you haven’t because I’ve never seen you let Cordelia get to you like that. Plus, usually when Willow’s mad at me, you’re my guide to winning her forgiveness, not my guide to internal injuries.” He nodded toward her clenched fists.

Oh. She shook them loose and tucked her hands behind her back. He wasn’t wrong. Even Faith had noticed her mood.

“Sorry. Uh, it turns out getting dumped doesn’t exactly bring out the best color in me.”

“No, this started way before the Scott thing. I mean, I get that it didn’t help - and he’s a complete and total idiot, by the way, but come on. One second you’re barely committing to dance with the guy and the next you’re eating his face off in front of everybody, and if that’s not a mood, I don’t know what is.”

Again, he wasn’t wrong. But he’d be angry and anxious, too, if every night he actually managed to fall asleep, his head was filled with his best friend.

The Angel Show had been all but replaced by The Willow Show, though of course Angel still turned in a cameo appearance to laugh at her while she dreamed about Willow and Oz kissing in the Bronze. Or to grab her by the hair, screaming betrayal when she dreamed of Willow’s lips on her own.

But mostly, it was just Willow, Willow, Willow. With her, with Oz, kissing her, holding her, crying, begging Buffy to look at her, wondering what she’d done wrong.

And it wasn’t as if she could escape it when she was awake, either. Though she had managed to avoid any one-on-one interaction, Willow’s eyes followed her everywhere, or so it felt to Buffy, and then there was Oz.

It was bad enough watching their little kisses, their little touches - holding hands, tucking the tag of her shirt in, petting her busy, busy red head. Motions that used to mean nothing, that blended into the scenery, they suddenly occupied Buffy’s awareness and promptly jumped on every last nerve ending in her body.

That was bad enough, but the guilt…

Oz was a good guy. He was good to Willow. Good for Willow. Buffy  _ liked _ Oz. And she wanted to break his nose.

Giles had to be wrong. There had to be something about the primal nature of the Slayer, because otherwise why would she want to punch a guy she liked over a silly couple of kisses? Kisses that were quite literally haunting her dreams, but that was just because she’d gotten used to them. She needed time. And a new boyfriend. A tiara would’ve helped.

“I’m just…”

Xander watched her patiently, hands in his pockets, but Cordelia saved her for the second time tonight.

“Hey, do you think this tender moment can wait until tomorrow? I’ve been running for my life through the jungle in heels all night; I’m tired, I’m dirty, and all I want to do is dance with my boyfriend at my senior homecoming and then go take the longest bubble bath anyone has ever taken. So can we wrap it up here?”

That about summed it up.

Xander huffed, rolling his eyes toward Buffy. She shrugged.

“Sorry. I’m with Cordy on this.”

“Fine, but you have to come in for at least one dance.”

Buffy sighed. “It may have escaped your notice, but I don’t have anyone to dance with, so - hard pass.”

“I’ll dance with you,” he offered gallantly, but his grin quickly died as he glanced between two hard glares. “After I dance with Cordy. Or...before? No?”

“Look, it’s bad enough that I’m dating you, what do you think will happen if people see me leasing you out to your fellow freaks? No offense, Buffy. Besides, I want. To go. Home.” She raised both eyebrows at him.

He gulped down any protests that might’ve been forthcoming. “Yes, ma’am.”

Cordelia pivoted, hands on her hips. “And Buffy. You know that thing you were saying before about slaying consuming your entire life? Well, if you keep being Miss No Fun Drama Queen of the Loner Squad, you’re just helping it be true. So stop being a stick in the mud and come dance with your friends.”

Well, when you put it  _ that _ way…

It wasn’t as if she had to spend time with Willow and Oz. They wouldn’t want her to, anyway. They were on a date. Though eliminating them from her pool of friends to dance with left, well, no one. Except Giles, and eesh, no. He was probably already gone anyway, even if she did want to dance with the school librarian in front of her classmates.

Cordelia’s nostrils were beginning to flare, but she wasn’t leaving.

She could at least have a drink. And dab off some of the dirt stiffening her cheeks. Make enough of an appearance that these two knuckleheads would be appeased, and then leave.

“Fine. But only because you admitted that I’m the Queen.”

She grinned, and Xander flushed with relief when Cordelia just laughed. They left him standing at the bar while they attended to some of the more obvious damage in the ladies’ room, fixing their hair and adjusting their straps. There was nothing to be done about the lump on Buffy’s forehead, but at least the scratch on her arm had already sealed up and all she had to do was clean up the blood leftover. Cordelia even helped her.

But as soon as they stepped out, she was on her own again. Cordelia hurried to tug Xander onto the dance floor while they were still strumming a slow song, and Giles was indeed nowhere to be seen.

Willow and Oz were. Oz stood calm next to a fidgeting Willow, his hand resting on the small of her back. Xander managed to nod toward Buffy before Cordelia hauled him away from the pair, and Willow whipped around to find her.

Damn Xander Harris.

Buffy wound her way through passing couples to the two of them, digging up a smile. “Hey.”

Without sleeves to twist, Willow didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, and swung them loose.

“Buffy, you look - you look really pretty.”

Doubtful. Willow, on the other hand… The dress was simple, a very basic cut, but she looked so fine. Maybe it was the black, setting her red hair aflame or making her green eyes sparkle. Or the fit, displaying the body Buffy had encouraged her so many times to show off because she was a total dish.

Buffy wanted to kiss her. After effects of slaying all night again, wanting to feel alive again, like Giles said. Nothing to do with the way the dress wrapped around Willow’s -

Oz was staring at her. Buffy cleared her throat.

“Thanks.”

Willow’s smile, tenuous as it was, lost its grip completely and Buffy hurried on.

“You, too. Really. Very nice.”

That didn’t help. When did talking to her best friend become such a painful process?

“I’m going to get us drinks,” Oz said then, kissing Willow’s cheek and oh, God, she was alone with Willow.

Well, not alone alone, there were plenty of people milling about, but only one of them was watching her forlornly, swaying in front of her, and what was Buffy supposed to say? She didn’t have to fret for long.

“Buffy, I’m so sorry. Giles told us what happened and I’m just - i-if I had known - ”

“There’s my date!”

Buffy nearly fell over under the weight of Faith’s arm lassoing her and oh, God again. She forgot about Faith.

“I was beginning to think you ditched me,” she said, squeezing Buffy none-too-lightly. “Hey, Willow.”

“Hi. Uh - ”

“C’mon, let’s get you a drink and grab us a couple of studlies.”

Buffy could only shoot Willow a glance of apology before Faith dragged her toward the opposite end of the bar, but she didn’t get much of a chance to feel relieved before she was deposited next to a stool and Faith pounced on one herself, pounding on the bartop.

“Yo, two sodas over here!” She grinned over. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

What? Buffy paused halfway to perching herself on the seat. “I’m welcome?”

“For the save back there. Looked awkward as hell, though I can’t say I blame you after the bait-and-switch. Which, by the way, I knew nothing about. They just called and told me they’d be picking me up in a van instead of a limo, so I’m thinking, okay, they’re plotting my death, right?”

She couldn’t help a small smile. “They’re one of the few things in this town that aren’t.”

“So I hear. SlayerFest, huh?”

“Yeah. ‘98. Apparently it’s an annual tradition we can look forward to, like the apocalypse.”

“Good, cause I gotta say, I was a little miffed I missed all the fun.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Right, cause getting hunted, shot at, and attacked by spiny-looking lizard guys with projectile knives in his arms ranks right up there with mini-golf and pedicures.”

“Okay, first of all, if mini-golf is your idea of fun, we got problems.”

“Well, it’s no stepping in a bear trap,” she deadpanned.

Faith laughed. “Come on, you took out, what, five bad guys tonight? You’re telling me there wasn’t even a little part of you that enjoyed it?”

Yes. “No. All I wanted was to dress up and go to my senior homecoming dance in a limo with my best friends, win queen and find a studly to dance with. You know, normal teenager stuff. Not with the death and the blood and the horror.” And the kissing other girls.

Willow was dancing with Oz at last, resting heads together. He had that little smile on his face, contented as he swayed her. Willow’s fingers curled in his suit jacket.

Faith grabbed a handful of pretzels. “So that’s what the catfight with brunette Barbie is all about?”

“Don’t you ever want to do something normal for the sake of it, even if you know deep down it’s stupid? Girls our age are…” Buffy gestured around them. “They’re worrying about finding a date for homecoming and whether that cute boy in fifth period likes them back and if they’re gonna have time to shop for a dress when they have that calculus exam coming up and...us? We don’t get to worry about any of that anymore, because we’re too busy worrying that a group of evil things is going to hijack our limo on the way to the homecoming dance we don’t have a date for to participate in a game where the objective is us dead. They get to spend the night dancing with their honeys and we have to spend the night fighting for our lives. So yeah, I want out sometimes. A lot of times. I want to do stupid things like act like losing homecoming queen to Cordelia is the end of the world, instead of actually knowing that it’s the end of the world unless I do something. Again. You know, I want to be present, to do something that more than, like, five people know about, and that doesn’t involve blood and guts and dead things. I want to be, like a person, who goes out with her friends and doesn’t have to cancel because of monsters and who fails tests because she didn’t study and not because of monsters and who has regular best friend feelings toward her best friend and you’re...not even listening.”

Faith was far too busy smirking at a boy for that. In fact, she didn’t even notice that Buffy had fallen silent for a full ten seconds, and when she finally took in her sour expression, she didn’t look remotely apologetic.

“Sorry, I didn’t know when there was going to be an intermission in that little pity party.”

Buffy poked out her lower lip. “I was going for more of a commiseration soiree.”

Faith laughed. “You picked the wrong girl then.”

“I can see that.”

“Look, B. You’ve got the whole I’m the Savior, Weight of the World complex working and I think that’s cute, but me? I’ve got no complaints about being a Slayer.”

“You really don’t ever wish you could just - ”

“Nope. Why would I ever want to be some pimply-faced nobody who’s probably gonna peak in high school, marry some asshole she went to homecoming with, and pop out a bunch of brats - when I could be this?”

“Someone who’s going to die alone and forgotten before she hits 20?”

“See, that’s your problem. You spend so much time thinking about the downsides to being a young, hot supergirl you miss all the ups.”

“For instance…?”

Faith looked as if she deeply pitied Buffy’s remaining brain cells. “How about - we’re young, hot supergirls who can do  _ whatever we want _ .”

“Tell the forces of darkness that.” She rolled her neck. “If it was just tonight...but it’s the same every time. I buy a pretty dress and plan for fun and friends; the demons plan the apocalypse. That’s my - our normal.”

She threw up her hands. “And what is so flipping fantastic about their normal, B? Look at ‘em. Those girls you’re so jealous of, the 'queens'? They’re so desperate to stand out from normal that one’s practically got Open For Business stamped on her ass. And look at your friends.” Faith nodded toward the swaying pairs. “They’re stuck on you like fleas on a dog, and why? You say greater good, I say they want a taste of what we got.”

“Frequent near death experiences?”

She smirked. “You say you don’t like it, I say you’re afraid of how much you do.”

The ice cubes in Buffy’s drink were all but melted. She gulped them down in hopes it would cool her suddenly burning skin. Faith just laughed.

“I don’t,” she blurted, far too late.

She was not an animal.

“Then why are you here with me?”

Buffy’s brow furrowed. “Um. Because Scott chose to dump me after I bought tickets for this thing? And what does that have to do with - ”

“Come on, if you wanted to keep him, you could’ve. You were bored. Otherwise you wouldn’t have gone out looking for some rough and tumble every time you went out with him.”

Wait. “How did you - ”

“I get that itch, too. Gotta scratch it before I can sleep, y’know?” Faith stretched, popping her shoulders, and grinned at her. “I could go for a romp now, what do you say?”

She glanced pointedly at the stubborn stains on her dress. “Think I’ve had enough violence for one night, but thanks.”

She rolled her eyes heavenward. “That’s your problem, you know that? You don’t do what you want.”

“I thought my problem was that I’m too pessimistic.”

“That, too. So you’re not a part of their sad little world anymore. You’re better. You’re a badass monster fighter - and you love it, don’t you? That power, that rush you get when you get a vamp on the ropes and you  _ know _ you’re gonna win. Come on, B.” Faith bumped her shoulders, grinning. “First step’s admitting it, right?”

She felt a smile creeping up. “Pretty sure that only applies to rehab.”

“You’re right, it’s not a problem.”

Buffy hid a grin into her cup.

“Okay, all right, baby steps. You don’t have to admit you love slaying, you just gotta say what you wanna do tonight. Whatever you want, B. World’s ours.”

What she wanted to do. What she wanted to do was go home, take a long, hot shower, and curl up in bed for the next twelve hours. At least, part of her did. The part that was tired, feet aching, crawling out of her skin because she just felt so  _ filthy _ .

She also wanted to finish what she’d started. Find Lyle Gorch and finish him off for good, and while she was at it, find that vamp in a suit from the SlayerFest Introductory Video and give him thirty - no, seventeen - seconds to run before she shot a stake through his heart. Willy probably knew something about it, if she spent enough time threatening to break his nose, he’d probably crack and spill a clue or two about where to find one or both of them…

A dusty end to a horrible night, that would be nice. Because Faith wasn’t wrong about the itch, except Buffy couldn’t tell if it was because she hadn’t really finished the game, beat the boss level, so to speak - or because she  _ missed Willow _ .

Because more than all of that other stuff, right now, she wanted to tuck herself in Willow’s arms and indulge in sweet comfort. Sweet kisses. Listen to her babble about why she and Xander thought tricking Cordelia and Buffy into making up was a workable plan, or whatever train of thought she happened to be working through, like why do they call it a mace, or does a stitch in time really save nine? And nine what?

“Hypothetically,” Buffy cleared her throat. “What if what I want is kind of...not exactly uncommon nowadays, it’s the 90s, after all - but definitely still not in the category of the norm?”

Faith just shrugged. “Let’s do it.”

“But what if it could hurt a lot of people? Like, not physically, but what if - ”

“Okay, that’s it.” Faith yanked Buffy off her stool so abruptly she nearly added soda to the list of stains on her dress. “We gotta get you out of that head of yours.”

“Faith, wait - what are you doing? Where are we - sorry!”

She waved a hand back at the guy whose foot she just stomped on, but there was no stopping Faith. She broke them through the thinning throng of her classmates and tables to the dance floor, a chorus of heys and watch-its in their wake, and - stares. People were staring.

“Come on.” Faith wheeled at last, and the Cheshire Cat had nothing on that grin. “Let’s dance.”

She raised her arms in the air and let the rest of her body roll, not an inch from brushing Buffy’s skin. People were definitely, definitely staring.

“Faith…” she croaked, flames climbing up to her ears.

But the music was too loud - Faith had situated them right next to the booming speakers that had replaced the Dingoes set. Or maybe Faith just didn’t care, because the near brushing was over all of a sudden and Faith’s hands were on Buffy’s waist, guiding her into the same writhing motions, and it felt…

Good.

Faith wasn’t soft or warm like Willow or anything. Her fingers dug into Buffy’s hip bones, and the heat of her was almost worse than that in Buffy’s cheeks. But she was smooth and her eyes sparkled under the dim lights, and the bass was pounding over Buffy’s skin in a way that made the hair on the back of her neck prickle.

Or was that Willow staring at her again?

Faith spun her out with a shove to her left hip, and Buffy’s spine fell loose with a laugh.

Faith was right. And Cordelia was right, too, they both were. She spent so much time thinking - not that she didn’t have good reason after Angel. But that was boys and vampires and romance and ancient gypsy curses and everything complicated and grey in her life. Like this thing with Willow.

But being the Slayer, that was simple. Black and white. Slayer kills bad guys. Demons. If she enjoys it, if it makes her feel powerful, is that so bad - or just a perk?

Here she was thinking again when she could be enjoying herself.

Buffy threw herself into the beat, twirling circles around her partner until Faith roped her back in. She was just beginning to work up a sweat, a bead trickling down her neck, her veins pumping beneath her skin and that pleasant buzz in her muscles, but all too soon, the song was over, replaced by another ballad. Faith rolled her eyes.

Buffy raced for breath. “I guess a quick patrol couldn’t hurt.”

Slowly, Faith grinned, slinging an arm around Buffy’s shoulders. “That’s my girl.”


	5. Sugar Rush

Buffy was ready to eat crow - whatever that meant. Simple sayings became far too literal once you’d lived on the Hellmouth long enough, so no crow, just: Faith had the right idea all along.

She felt good. Better than good. That feeling after she’d just staked a vampire, the one that surged through every fiber with such force and so fleetingly that it scared her? It was like that all the time now.

Well, except when she was sleeping, but the way she and Faith had been going at it, sleep rarely happened - and who needed it when this power abounded?

When she could see her mom’s fingers start to slip before she dropped her morning cup of joe, when she could catch it before it shattered - and barely spill a drop, to boot. When she could proudly tell Giles that she and Faith took out a whole nest of - something or others last night.

Though, his reaction had left something wanting - a thorough cleaning of his glasses wasn’t what she expected, nor was the implied question, “I, uh, thought you’d gone home after we completed our study session.”

“I did. Faith called, asked if I wanted to patrol and I was still up, so. Sorry for doing my job. Making the world a safer place.”

He was so easy. “Of-of-of course, I didn’t mean to imply that - ”

She didn’t let him dangle too long, of course, but it was fun to watch him squirm. At least until she ate his banana muffin and he started glaring and moving the remainder of his breakfast away from her.

Speaking of muffins, something smelled delicious in the cafeteria. The hair on the back of Buffy’s neck prickled to a stand and she bounded in, spotting her friends slumped at a middle table.

With a grin, Buffy pounced, and Xander nearly fell off his seat.

“Hey, my friends! Friends of mine - ooh, candy.”

She reached for a bar as she plopped herself next to him, only to pout when Cordelia swatted her away.

“Band candy,” Cordelia huffed. “Which means I’m going to need at least five dollars before you get grabby.”

“Band candy,” she echoed, brow knitting. “But you’re not in the band. None of you are.” She paused, eyeing Oz. His arm hung across the back of Willow’s chair. “Well, you’re in _a_ band.”

“Snyder’s voluntelling everyone,” Xander explained, waving a half-eaten bar at her. “Shockingly, the actual band membership or lack thereof doesn’t seem to be a big concern for him.” She grabbed a bar out of the open box in front of him. “Hey!”

“Pay later, hungry now.”

“Buffy, are you…” Willow’s voice died the moment Buffy met her eyes.

She’d been doing that a lot lately. Starting to say something, only to lose courage at the last moment. Buffy knew how she felt, trying to bridge that canyon to get back to where they were before.

She hadn’t heard Willow laugh in what felt like forever. Hadn’t seen her dimples. Hadn’t heard about her day, pinched her sleeve so they wouldn’t lose each other in the crowded mall, listened to her explain some Hindi movie while Buffy threaded her fingers through the length of her auburn hair.

And there it was again. _Willow_.

She was burning chunks out of Buffy’s buzz just sitting there, wilting into her chair and the arc of Oz’s arm.

He was watching her, too. They all were, but there was something….

“I mean, you seem…” Willow tried again, hands halfway to her usual fluid gesturing.

“Hyper,” Xander finished for her, and she drooped. “You haven’t happened to tick off any witches lately, have you?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “What, so I can’t be in a good mood? There must be something evil brewing?”

He raised his palms to her. “No, good is good and we’re glad that you’re good. It’s just - ”

“Miss Summers.” Snyder. She groaned, but it was too late to let the Hellmouth swallow her after all. A box landed in front of her. “The marching band needs new uniforms. You will sell these to raise money.”

“This week’s hoop, huh?”

“What was that?”

Buffy swiveled to meet beady, narrowed eyes. “You know, you say jump, I say I already won this little power struggle when the school board overruled you.”

Behind her, someone - Willow - issued a strangled gasp, but she didn’t take her eyes off Snyder’s smug little smirk. The rat.

Before he could get a word out, Xander sputtered: “Sick! She’s sick - delirious with fever, actually, and yet she still comes into school; what a trooper, huh?”

He looked a little ill himself. Snyder was unmoved.

“Harris, be quiet. Summers, you can start your sales with Ms. Barton - when you see her in detention this afternoon.”

With that, he stomped off.

“I can’t believe you just did that.” Cordelia sounded mildly impressed.

“Yeah, and what were you thinking?” Xander was less so. “You just barely got back here, are you really looking to give him a reason to kick you back out?”

“You worked so hard,” Willow interjected, softly.

“I’m sick of being told what to do. It’s bad enough every time a monster pops up I have to put my entire life on hold, why should I have to cancel my evening because Snyde-Man decided to draft the populace into peddling cheap, imitation Hershey bars for the stupid band - which I’m not even in!”

Cordelia was nodding. “She makes a valid point.”

Buffy popped her shoulders and broke off another chunk of candy. “Besides, it’s not like he can expel me for being a little mouthy.”

Xander’s frown wasn’t going anywhere. “Still, Buff - ”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Let’s talk fun. What’s on tonight?”

“I don’t know about fun, but the Dingoes are playing the Bronze,” Oz offered.

“I’m there, as soon as I finish my ritual opening of the SAT workbook, realizing I have no idea what words mean, and accepting my destiny as a toilet scrubber. I’ve got it down to about ten minutes now, so. Progress.” Xander grinned around the table, clearing his throat when he was only met with blank stares. “So, ladies? Bronze?”

“Can’t. I’ll be putting actual effort into studying.” Cordelia wrinkled her nose at the box in front of her. “After I unload these things, anyway.”

“I’ll be there,” Willow chirped, and Oz’s lip curled. His thumb rubbed circles around the point of her shoulder. “At least, for a little while. I-I should study, too.”

“Please, you could take it with your eyes closed and still score higher than me,” Xander deadpanned. “And what about you, lady of Buff?”

“Last night’s greatest hits on replay. Mom time, slay-study double feature with Giles, then overtime with Faith.”

“Again?” Willow looked as though she very much wanted to crawl under the table and disappear. “I-I just mean…”

“I know, she’s gone into total overdrive with quality mom-daughter time since I got back. And Giles is even worse. I think he might actually be wigging about the SATs, but like a tasteful, British wiggins, so it’s hard to tell.” She shrugged.

Xander shifted. “Uh, Buff, I think she meant the overtime part. With Faith? Wouldn’t this be, you know, every night this week?”

“What’s your point?”

He raised a palm to her scowl. “No point, just...observyness.”

“Um, what happened to ‘she’s going to burn out and wind up hurt or worse at this rate’ and ‘we see her so little it’s pretty much like she never came back’?” Cordelia’s brow quirked, and Buffy’s wasn’t long to follow.

Willow sank about an inch in her chair.

Xander cackled anxiously. “What? No - we didn’t say...that, exactly.” He gulped at her. “We’re just, we’re worried about you. That’s all.”

Worried. Like Giles, only he didn’t say anything, but Buffy was at a loss with all of them. She tossed down her candy bar.

“Look, this is my _job_ ,” she murmured, mindful of their classmates. “I’m the Slayer. I’m supposed to spend my nights stopping the spread of evil.”

“And we’re on board with that, stopping the spread,” Xander agreed quickly. “But you never used to spend all your nights doing it.”

“Maybe because I never saw how fun it could be before.”

“Fun?” Willow’s arms crossed over her stomach; she’d sunk another inch.

No - she wasn’t going to burn away Buffy’s mood again.

“Yes, fun. You know, that thing you told me to find?” she said firmly - Willow’s nose was going to disappear pretty soon. “Like last night, Faith and I were patrolling out by lover’s lane and we found this cave just chock full of demon-y guys with, like, claws and these Krazy Straw antlers - and some serious B.O.”

Cordelia’s nose wrinkled. “Is there anything in the undead world that _doesn't_ have a funky smell?”

Xander sat up. “A whole nest? Should we be hitting the books?”

“No need. Faith and I took ‘em out.” Buffy grinned. “It was amazing. It was like - synchronized slaying, we just charged in and started kicking ass. Oh, and Faith did this one move that was like - okay, she used this demon to backflip and it pushed him into this other guy’s path and he was already blowing this stream of fire - oh, by the way, they breathed fire. Anyway, it incinerates the one and at the same time, she’s using the momentum to - ”

“Whoa, whoa, wait.”

They were all staring again. Oz’s eyes had even widened a little. Somehow, she didn’t think it was amazement striking them all at once.

Xander was scowling. “Did you even have any weapons on you when you decided to pull a Leeroy Jenkins on a whole cave of fire-breathing demons?”

She shrugged. “We had our stakes.”

She didn’t need to look at Willow this time to feel her good mood seeping away. Xander’s scathing tone was quite enough. But it wasn’t Xander who spoke up this time.

“Buffy, you could have gotten seriously hurt,” Willow breathed.

Buffy’s stomach knotted. Damn those sad eyes.

“But I didn’t. They’re a big check in the slay column, so what is with the dire?”

None of them seemed to have an answer to that. Xander worked his jaw. Giles had that same look this morning. Though that was after she stole his muffin. And he wasn’t protesting her lack of weaponry, he was saying - something about checking in with him first, like she usually did. She usually rounded up the whole gang for research before she gathered up weapons and -

Oh.

“Is this because you missed out on the slay ride?” Buffy peered around at eyes that wouldn’t quite meet her own. “Come on, guys, this is Sunnydale. You’ll be in on the next adventure, promise. There’s plenty of weirdness to go around.”

#

Like this.

It was weird enough that Giles skipped study hall at all, but this - this? She wasn’t even sure what she was looking at. Giles was...day drinking? In his undershirt. Listening to the best of Cream at a volume she was pretty sure he once claimed made him feel like his brain was coming out his ears.

She wasn’t sure which one was the worse visual.

“Giles? Giles!”

He swiveled away from the stack of records at his feet and a flash of white caught her eye and oh, God, it was even worse now.

“Have you been _smoking_?”

She waved a hand through the puff he let out at her. This was not right. This was more than not right, it was wrong.

“What’s it to you?” he grunted.

His eyes were cold as he pulled on the cig between his fingers. This was bad.

She had never seen him like this before. Not even after Ms. Calendar. That at least had a name: grief. But this? Something evil _was_ brewing.

Buffy swiveled the volume knob, ignoring his indignant ‘oi!’ “Giles, did something happen?”

“No.” He reached past her and cranked it until she knew what he meant about the whole brain thing.

“Giles!” She twisted it back down, leaving her hand over the knob this time, and swallowed past the ringing in her ears. “What is wrong with you? What’s going on? You’re acting - ”

Like a brat. But she couldn’t make the word leave her gaping mouth, even as he _rolled his eyes at her_.

“What are you on about?”

“What am I…? Giles, you played hooky from work to go all Bogart on us, with the smoking and the drinking and the sitting in the dark recapturing the golden music of your youth. Wait. This isn’t some midlife crisis, is it? You’re not thinking of buying some sporty little two door tramp, are you? Oh, my God, you already did, didn’t you?”

“If I did, it wouldn’t be any sodding business of yours, now would it?” he drawled, giving up on fighting over the volume to sling himself across the couch instead.

The sting of his words was tempered by a new distraction. The way he was sitting - lounging, really. The way Xander often slung himself. Nothing like the way Giles sat, all stiff and mannered. Like if the chair he was on suddenly vanished, he’d still be upright. If the couch vanished now, he’d fall on his ass.

He blew another cloud at the ceiling. “You’ve got a point about the wheels, though. I ought to get me a Bonneville. Now that’s a classic.”

“What the hell’s a - never mind.”

Buffy shook herself. Think. Giles wasn’t himself. _Really_ not himself. Sitting in the dark, smoking, drinking, British swearing, not wearing five layers of tweed in southern California - boy, that description reminded her an awful lot of someone she would have preferred to bleach from her memory forever. He was even being a bit cold and brusque and - please don’t let it be true.

She tossed the curtains open, and though he winced, Giles didn’t burst into flames. Thank God.

“Bloody hell, girl, did you barge in here just to wreak havoc, or what? Sod off!”

He flung ash toward the door and popped a piece of cocorific candy in his mouth.

“I ‘barged in here’ because you didn’t bother to show up to your job and I was concerned. Look, Giles,” she sighed, folding her arms to thwart the growing urge to give him a good thwack upside the head. “If you are, in fact, Giles and not a hyena. You could’ve at least called.”

“Is that right? I must’ve missed all the times you rang me this summer.”

_Ouch._

Buffy paced away before she took out the sudden need to stab something on Giles’ property.

“Fine. I’m the badness, I deserve to take my lumps - but Snyder already doesn’t like you because you’re on my side and you _can’t_ get fired because - ”

“Snyder!” He snorted derisively. “I’m not afraid of that little ponce.”

Giles had always made it perfectly clear how he felt about Snyder in his own British way - or perhaps in his own adult way, because most of the teachers at Sunnydale High seemed to share the common bond of silent dissatisfaction with the ruling monarch. Except for Ms. Barton, apparently.

Wait. Giles always made it perfectly clear without saying a word, just like the rest of them. It was all pinched lips and terse nods, not “ponce” and “old commandant.” No, the students were the only ones who vocalized it, who skipped class or even the entire school day - oh. Oh!

Buffy stomped to the phone. These were Hellmouth fingerprints, and that meant Scooby time. It was far too late to hang up by the time she realized she’d simply dialed the most familiar number.

“Hello?” Willow prompted again, but Buffy’s voice was caught in her throat.

That is, until Giles threw a balled-up candy wrapper at her. There was no time for anxiety.

“Will, are your parents home?”

“Buffy?” She was silent so long that save for the absence of a dial tone, Buffy might’ve thought she’d hung up. “Uh, yeah, yes, they’re-they’re acting kind of….”

“Like teenagers? Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around. Round up the gang, it’s research time.”

“Got it.”

Buffy didn’t allow herself another second before she hung up and grabbed Giles’ collar, ignoring another series of ‘oi’s as he scrambled to grab his remaining candy bars and cigarettes. He stopped protesting about halfway to Faith’s favorite cemetery, marching past growing hordes of grown men and women wandering the streets. Whatever it was, it was only getting worse. She was pretty sure she saw Mr. Sanderson from the bank taking a razor to his hair.

The gang was all assembled in the library when she strode in, Faith and the walking Benson & Hedges ad at her heels.

“All the grownups are doing the time warp again. We need to figure out what’s causing it and fast. Anyone got any theories?”

Buffy glanced over four pairs of eyes trained at the stream of smoke leaving Giles’ lips. Xander was doing a pretty good impression of a fish, actually, but there was no time for this.

“Guys! Okay, I know it’s weird, but that’s exactly why we need to move on this now. Okay? Has anyone seen any adults acting like they haven’t taken a dip in the fountain of youth?”

Xander seemed to shake himself. “Uh, the news. The anchors - my dad left the TV on and they seemed totally normal.”

“So it’s local,” Oz said.

“Maybe it’s a spell,” Willow suggested.

It did seem the most likely candidate. But usually these things were centered on a single target - personal. Even Amy’s love spell had been meant for Cordelia only, it simply backfired. If that was the case now, then - trying to find the one remaining sane adult out there in that mob was going to be like finding a piece of straw in a jar of needles. Though, given her track record, maybe Amy was the perfect place to start...

“But why? I mean, granted, we’ve all wished our parents or our principals were a little less Catholic nun at one time or another, but why curse the whole town?” Xander wondered.

“Why not?” Cordelia paused under their looks, then hurried on, “I’m not saying I did it, geez. I’m just saying, there are upsides to having no grownups. I mean, you guys saw what happened in study hall earlier. Ms. Barton let us all go an hour early and nobody even noticed. I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say it was the best thing that ever happened at this school.”

She was right. Not one person stopped them, not when they left the classroom, not when they left the building. Not even Snyder.

“Will, do you know of any spells that could cause something like this?”

“Not to interrupt the brainstorming session or anything,” Faith called from her perch on the counter, “but, uh, why do we care?”

Buffy’s neck twinged from whiplash. _What_.

“I mean, sure, it’s weird and all...and in some cases, kinda hot,” she drawled, oblivious to Buffy’s stare. Too busy smirking at Giles. He grinned. Eww. “But Cher over here’s got a point. No grownups, no rules. Not really seeing a downside here, B.” She shrugged.

“It’s _Cordelia_. I could write it down for you. You did at least attend elementary school, right?”

A thousand thoughts rushed to Buffy’s tongue so quickly that none of them managed to make it out. No downside, other than that Giles was lost, other than that people could get hurt, other than that in all this chaos, they were wide open to get hurt by something a lot worse than each other - and that’s exactly what _somebody_ wanted and _Faith didn’t care_?

But she didn’t have to speak. Willow found her voice first.

“Other than the hundreds of people who could get hurt?” she snapped, glaring at Faith with all the consternation and shock and outrage burning in Buffy’s own chest. “People aren’t just acting weird here, they’re reckless an-an-and they’re probably going through major hormonal surges that some of them haven’t felt in decades, that make them agitated, even aggressive.”

“Unless they sprout fangs, I’m still not seeing how this is our problem,” Faith said, popping her shoulders again. “That’s what the cops are for.”

“There are no cops right now,” Willow barked back. “No adults means no police, no hospitals, no fire department - not even a-a postal worker. People could get hurt, and there’s no one to help. They’re defenseless.”

Faith rolled her eyes to Buffy, and Willow wasn’t long to follow. Both seeking solidarity, support. It was the first time in what felt like forever that Buffy could look back at Willow without anxiety wrenching her stomach. Those green eyes seemed to brighten under her stare, before she even dipped her chin or uttered a word of agreement.

“Willow’s right. It’s our job to protect people, demons or no.”

Faith was already cranking her neck in annoyance. Buffy could have wrung it for her.

“ _Besides which_ ,” she bit out. “We can’t rule out demons in this yet.”

“What do you mean, Buff?” Xander prompted.

“Somebody had something to gain by making sure not one adult in this town would notice a thing. Something else is happening tonight. Something big.”

“How can you be sure?”

Buffy whipped to Faith again with a scowl. “Because nobody would create this much chaos for no...”

Giles paused in his struggle with the wrapper on his last candy bar to frown back at her. “What are you staring at?”

The last time the town was in this much chaos, it was because of exactly one person. One person who would love to see Giles turning back time. One person who worshipped chaos.

Last time, he used costumes to spread his spell. This time - Giles bit a hunk off the bar. Buffy snatched the remainder from his hand.

“Oi, give it!”

Buffy wheeled away. “Ethan.”

Faith’s brow wrinkled. “Huh?”

“Just a theory, but I’m guessing our favorite slimeball is back in town and using band candy to destroy everyone’s lives and sense of decency this time.”

“That guy’s the worst,” Cordelia moaned.

Oz leaned closer to Willow. “Who’s Ethan?”

“A filthy little wanker I should’ve offed a long time ago,” Giles snarled at Buffy’s side. “We’ve gotta find him.”

“Agreed,” Buffy said absently.

The candy bar was convincing. Official-looking. Tricked, at the least, all the students and the adults who ingested it with its brand label. Possibly even Snyder, up to the school board. They must’ve sold hundreds; Buffy herself passed off forty between Giles and her - oh, God, her mother!

They _had_ to fix this.

“He has to be mass-producing these somewhere,” she said, tossing it to the table.

“Well, there aren’t any chocolate factories in Sunnydale. Unless someone’s been holding out on me,” Xander said, eyeing them suspiciously.

“Last time he leased out that empty store near the Magic Shop,” Willow offered.

“Okay. Willow - get on the computer, look for any warehouses or factories up for a short lease, probably isolated, no residential areas nearby.”

“On it.”

“Xander, Cordy, Oz - hit the books. Find anything you can about this spell, whether it’s happened anywhere before, and most importantly, how to reverse it.”

The three disappeared into the stacks in moments, and Buffy steeled herself.

“Giles - help Willow.”

Unsurprisingly, he scowled. “What for?”

“Ethan’s smart, okay? He’s not gonna use his own name for any of this, and you know him better than anybody else in this room. If he’s got aliases, real estate holdings, whatever, then you need to share - and do _not_ give her any attitude, or you’ll deal with me.”

“Ooh.” He chuckled, waving his fingers at her. “What, big tough Slayer, afraid I’m gonna hurt your little girlfriend’s feelings, eh? Relax.” He popped another cigarette between his teeth.

Willow and Faith were staring at her again and, great. The anxiety was back with a vengeance - along with something else.

“That’s it.” Buffy smashed the cigarette to the floor and grabbed his collar again, wrangling him into the privacy of his office before she hissed, “God, what is _wrong_ with you?”

He rubbed his neck, wincing. “What’s wrong with me? You’re being a complete loon!”

“And you’re being a total brat! I don’t need sullen teenage Giles right now, okay? I need Giles with his shit together.”

“That’s rich considering what I put up with from you,” he sneered. “Yeah, if you’re not busy whinging about your destiny, you’re making a point to disrespect mine, off chumming with Faith or skipping town without so much as a sodding smoke signal.”

Buffy’s jaw was either going to lock or come unhinged by the end of the night, she was sure of it.

“You know, that’s the second time tonight you’ve made some smart remark about this summer, so if this is how you really feel about it, why didn’t you just jump in on the Buffy Bash in the first round? Why did you act like everything was fine - like you were on my side?”

“Perhaps because you looked like if somebody sneezed at you wrong, you were gonna take off again.”

He wasn’t exactly wrong. She almost did. Yet hearing it from him, the one person who just said “welcome home” and then went on as though she’d never left…

“Forget it,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Coward,” he cursed at her back.

Let it go. Just walk out. This was “Ripper” talking, not Giles.

“ _Excuse me_?” Damn.

“You heard me.”

Buffy dug her nails into her palms. Hitting Ripper was hitting Giles, hitting Ripper was hitting Giles…

“Yeah, I heard you, and now I’m telling you to explain yourself.”

“You ever faced anything you couldn’t beat to death, eh?”

What. Of course she did. Vampires couldn’t _be_ beaten to death. That she knew of. Maybe Faith would know. In fact, if it could be done, she was sure Faith had done it. Anyway, what did beating things to death have to do with - oh. It was possible he wasn’t talking about slaying.

But he was wrong. She didn’t run from non-slaying things. Did she? She and Mom - sort of worked things out, aside from the odd passive aggressive comment. After she cornered Buffy in front of a room of strangers and classmates. And she and Xander, they were good now. After getting at each other’s throats and then taking their frustrations out on zombies instead.

But that was how she and Xander resolved their differences. Now that she thought about it, maybe it wasn’t totally healthy.

Willow. She and Willow talked things out twice in recent memory, once they were calm and alone together. Not that they were ever at each other’s throats. They rarely ever fought, or even disagreed. The past few weeks had been the - second longest they’d gone without really talking and, God, even teenage Giles was obnoxiously right all the time.

Buffy was running scared from Willow, keeping her at a distance without warning, explanation, or even room for Willow to air her own thoughts, her own feelings, whatever they might be. After she promised not to leave her. Didn’t she just learn this lesson? That running didn’t solve anything, it just buried problems. And, as Buffy well knew, buried things just came crawling right back up, smelling worse for wear and bound to hurt a lot of people.

Like Giles’ true feelings about this summer.

“You’re right.” His eyebrows rose a fraction, but she pushed on. “You’re right, I’ve been...I lean on slaying because it’s the simple and straightforward win or die kind of scary. But I owe it to you to have a real conversation about this, and we will. When you’re Giles again.”

He rolled his eyes, but whatever protest he was about to offer was interrupted by Willow’s triumphant cheer.

“Buffy! I think I found it!”

Without another glance, Buffy strode out to the front counter to peer at Willow’s screen. “What you got?”

“It’s a property in the old warehouse district, near where CRD used to be. It’s on a month-by-month lease from the Sunnydale government and someone named Nate A. Henry just signed it for one month only.”

“Faith, let’s go pay ‘Nate’ a visit.”

She hopped off the counter with a grin and a bounce toward the weapons, but Buffy paused. Willow was already digging through more real estate pages, fully accustomed to Buffy’s brusque and business-like manner when it was crunch time like this. Or maybe, fully accustomed to Buffy ignoring her by now.

She laid a hesitating hand over Willow’s shoulder, bracing herself through the whole body jump that followed, and tried for a smile when those big eyes found hers. “Nice work. I can always count on you.”

Willow’s dimples grew, but - “Yo, B! This guy’s human, right? What d’you think’ll scare him more, the mace or the crossbow?”

Buffy pinched her lips apologetically and made to meet Faith - and so did Giles. She stopped. He looked back at her, brow quirked.

“You’re not coming with us.”

“Bollocks. You said yourself I know him better than anyone here.”

“Giles, somewhere in there is the best researcher and occult expert on either side of the Atlantic. I need him to focus on reversing this spell, not tagging along to remind me to chase after Ethan when he inevitably runs and hides.”

With that, she marched off to join Faith. Either the flattery worked or the candy was wearing off, because amazingly, Giles didn’t follow them when they headed out, though he didn’t join Willow and Xander in telling her to be careful, either.

At least he really did seem to be coming back to himself later, when she called again from the hospital.

As usual, Willow was spot on. Ethan didn’t take long to run and hide himself away in a crate, nor did he take long to crack when Faith asked if she could try busting his knee caps with the mace. A quick call back to the library led them to the nursery wing at Sunnydale General, and a second, more panicked call led to Giles’ breakthrough.

Buffy hung up and headed down the hall. “I’m going to the sewers. Faith, take Ethan back to the library. We’ll figure out what to do with him later.”

A sharp haul on her elbow brought her screeching to a halt. “Time out. You want me to _babysit_ while you go save the day? What am I, your sidekick?”

Ethan was already trying to wriggle from the rope they’d knotted around his wrists. Buffy shoved him to a chair.

“Look, we don’t have time for egos right now.”

“You mean you don’t.”

“These children don’t have time! Faith, these are _infants_ we’re talking about. There is _no room_ for mistakes.”

Faith scoffed a laugh. “Right, this is about earlier, isn’t it? Look, I’m sorry I didn’t know the jurisdiction bylaws on magic candy curses, all right, but - ”

“ _Faith_!” Buffy brought her fists back down to her sides and took a breath. “We have to save those children. Ethan cannot come along, and we can’t just let him loose. He’s a dangerous person, and I am trusting you to make sure he doesn’t escape for what would be the third time. Please.”

Finally, after a silence, Faith nodded. She still wasn’t sure. Buffy could see the doubt written all over her face, but she didn’t have time to be more comforting than this.

Fortunately, the usual Latin chanting that always seemed to accompany these demonic rituals led her straight to Trick and Lurconis, and she managed to take care of one problem. Trick leapt out of the pool of sewer water the minute she lit the King Kong of snakes on fire and disappeared back up the ladder. At least she thought he did, but, well - villains.

“You and me, girl. There’s hard times ahead.”

Buffy merely rolled her eyes. There was no time to chase after him anyway. Now she had four babies to get back to the hospital with her two arms. At least one of which she would need to use to climb back up the ladder, and she didn’t think taking trips was the best idea considering how many normal-sized monsters usually swarmed these sewers, forget the supersized ones. She didn’t have long to worry.

“Hey, Buffy,” Willow called from the hole in the ceiling, smiling.

Oz appeared next to her. “Need a hand?”

“I love it when we get here and she’s already taken care of the gross stuff,” Cordelia joined in. “Oh, ew, babies.”

That hole was getting crowded. Xander mock-gasped. “Oh, my God, Buffy. We didn’t even get to throw you a shower.”

Buffy couldn’t help but laugh. “Shut up and get down here.”

It was strange. They hadn’t had an adventure like this in...a while. One that they all pitched in on and solved together. Not like the homecoming fiasco, where she and Cordelia had been on their own. Or this past week with Faith, seeking out and fighting demons on their home turf. It was satisfying, she wouldn’t deny that anymore.

But this, taking Willow and Xander’s hands as they lifted her up out of the sewer, delivering the babies safely back to the hospital, joking with each other as they walked back to Giles, seeing all the adults slowly coming back to themselves - it came with its own kind of satisfaction that Buffy missed.

Things were going to change. Once again, two very separate pieces of her life were going to meet, but this time, maybe there was room for adjustment. Compromise.

But first, there were two problems left: the SATs and Ethan Rayne.

“I’m amazed it took him the whole weekend to figure out those handcuffs.”

“You don’t sound terribly concerned,” Giles commented, cleaning his lenses.

She shrugged, unable to contain a smile. “It’s not like we could keep him chained up in your bathtub forever. Besides, I’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

“Yes, it-it seems this…‘Trick’ fellow is determined to cause you and Faith some trouble, doesn’t it?”

“I meant the mountains of clothes I have to take back to the mall in the next 30 days.” When he only furrowed his brow, she went on, “My mom spent her entire teenage dream shopping and now she’s too embarrassed to face the sales clerks.”

He nodded his understanding, a little flicker of amusement in his eye, but then he stopped walking altogether, all seriousness when he said, “Buffy, I...I-I-I want to apologize. For our, um, argument. I - what I said was-was - ”

“True,” she finished for him. “You were just being honest, and some of it, I needed to hear. I do get so wrapped up in how unfair this is to me that sometimes I forget how unfair it is to you. And I do occasionally use slaying as an excuse not to face things. But the one thing I still just don’t understand is why you pretended like everything was okay when I came back if - ”

“That isn’t - ” Giles pinched the bridge of his nose. “What I said, it-it’s not a true reflection of-of… I was simply so relieved to have you back.”

Buffy sagged under the weight of her backpack. “So, you really were just afraid if you yelled at me, I’d run off again.”

“No. Not-not entirely. It was clear to me that you were already suffering enough without any assistance,” he said slowly, considering. “I _was_ angry that you left without any word or trace of your whereabouts. More than that, I was...concerned and-and…” Hurt. Buffy bit at her bottom lip. “But I had no desire to yell at you or to-to punish you. Only to help you and, if I possibly could, to understand.”

“I’m sorry, Giles.” She pulled up a small smile as he startled. “After everything, hurting you was the last thing I wanted to do. I just hope you can forgive me.”

He stepped in line with her as she turned down the hallway, and she spied the ghost of a smile out of the corner of her eye.

“There’s something I wanted to run by you, actually, and feel free to tell me if it’s totally crazy, but. I was thinking that you should train the guys, too.”

He looked more confused than anything, which was much better than his Good Lord face, so she counted it as a plus. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Willow and Xander, even Cordelia and Oz, they help us fight demons and save the world every other week, but if you asked Xander what a pernach is, he’d say, ‘what’s a pernach with you.’”

Giles wiped his mouth of a smile. “I see your point. However, they’re not Slayers like you and Faith. It’s neither in their destiny nor their physical abilities to train and-and fight the way the two of you do.”

“I’m not saying they should get the full Slayer treatment, either,” Buffy agreed, itching away a tingle in her neck. “Maybe we could just do like one session a week that’s just basic defense against supernaturally strong monsters. I really think it would be good for them - and me. I won’t have to worry about them so much the next time I’m trying to defeat a horde of zombies or my ex-boyfriend. Plus.” She paused, drawing to a stop again. “I don’t think Faith really feels like she’s part of the gang. This could be a start.”

He rested a hand on her shoulder, and she knew she’d won him over before he even said the words: “I think it’s a brilliant idea. I’ll, um, put together a few lesson plans before we tell the others - aren’t you coming?”

“You go ahead, I have one more fence to mend.”

Willow was just down the hall, working side-by-side with Oz to paint over a set of lockers. As soon as Giles set off for the library, all abuzz with his new project, Buffy pivoted and wove her way through the crowd. Here goes.

She picked up the bucket of paint thinner Willow was dipping from and tried a smile. “Hey.”

Willow jumped about as hard as she had when Buffy laid a hand on her shoulder, but there was no one to interrupt her smile this time. “Really? I-I mean, hi!”

She glowed. Buffy gulped. That feeling hadn’t taken the hint and packed its bags in the week she’d been ignoring it. In fact, it had set up a fridge and a barcalounger. She wanted to kiss Willow. She missed kissing Willow, the same way she’d been missing everything else about her best friend.  _ Painfully _ .

And she couldn’t blame slaying this time. She hadn’t even touched a stake so far today.

But she was resisting. Maybe because Oz was right there, but nonetheless. This could work, and it had to. She was done running. Willow didn’t deserve it.

Buffy pushed her smile wider. “Whatcha doing?”

“Oh, Principal Snyder told us to remove all the graffiti from Friday. Xander and Cordelia were supposed to be helping us, but, they took off as soon as he left,” she explained, rolling her eyes.

Indeed, there were two damp brushes sitting on the floor. Typical, not that she could blame them. Janitorial work wasn’t exactly thrilling.

She traded the bucket for the brushes. “Well, I’ll help.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hey, I’m sure Snyder had me in mind for the job all along. Besides, three is faster than two, and the faster we finish, the sooner we can get to the Bronze.” Buffy grinned, relishing in the smile  _ that _ produced.

“Really? You don’t - you don’t have dinner with your mom tonight, or stuff with Giles, or…?” She nibbled her bottom lip.

“Nope. What about you, are you too busy to explore things of Bronze?”

“No! I mean, no, I’m, I’m totally free.”

“Good. I’ll wash these and then…” Buffy paused, tilting her head as she took a closer look at the graffiti Oz was still brushing away.

Willow’s grin dropped. “What?”

“Why would anyone want to kiss rocks?”

Suddenly, Buffy was surrounded by Willow, squeezing her until she could hardly breathe, but she didn’t mind much when she heard the little whisper in her ear, “I missed you.”

This definitely had to work.


End file.
